The Scholar smiled as he looked down at the fiery warden of Brodudika, the dragon's sapphire gaze shimmering in the shadow cast by his own head against the cloud-dimmed light above. "A pleasure to meet you, Evisa. I have heard quite a bit about you," he rumbled pleasantly, his attention turning to Desrium almost immediately. "Greetings, brother. I apologise for interrupting your sparring session." Flexing his wings and furling them into a comfortable position, the Hueilin stepping aside to make room for a rapidly approaching Ceridwen. The dragoness landed a short distance away at a higher speed than the larger Hueilin, galloping towards them before coming to a skidding stop beside him, upturned mud in her wake and more than a bit of it on the Scholar's right fore and hind limbs. He was quick to remedy that, shaking the muck off with a quick motion of his hind leg, the mud on his forelimb drying and crumbling off a moment later as he eyed her with a critical look, an apologetic smile on her face as an unspoken response.

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Desrium gave the mishap a silent berth, as opposed to Evisa's prompt laughter. She stood tall with a warrior's posture while her shoulders rocked to the rising and falling of her chest, belting off her amusement at a steady clip. Her muted voice had a punchy quality to it thanks to her helmet until she trailed off into a metallic, contented sigh. It entertained her greatly that the grandeur of the moment had been tempered substantially.

"You departed on urgent terms last we spoke, so your return is no interruption at all," Desrium replied with his usual, uniform cadence which was especially unfitting after Ceridwen's bereft of majesty.

An appreciative rumble was the Hueilin's response, the drake smiling as his gaze shifted between the three around him. "Speaking of the purpose for our departure, Syria and I learned some interesting things from our journey. But they have brought about a few of their own questions," he growled matter-of-factly.

Unheard by his company, the Scholar's voice gently interrupted the mage maiden's tranquility, a soft 'Syria, would you care to join us?' floating in the silence of the satchel's interior. As if trying to aid the dragon in drawing the mage's attention, the walls of the satchel rippled, a wave of dark red spreading across the partially opaque surface before fading once more.

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Desrium nodded his helm once, slowly. After a few seconds he finished his cursory introspection and replied, "This would seem like one of those matters that bring no satisfaction, no matter the degree of inquiry involved." Likewise, the implications of the Paladin's statement went unheard, however they came across to the Scholar all the same despite the limits to their rapport.

Evisa looked over her shoulder at Desrium, a subtle transition from her being a bystander to the topic at hand to an active listener. As with Desrium's cooling skin, in which the glimmer of searing white and yellow was already receding into dull oranges and reds escorted by billows of steam, the projection of Evisa's innate strength had diminished into a flicker easily overlooked by eyes less keen than a dragon's. Her investment in the words being exchanged took priority of her hyperactivity, and that hint of impatience sustained the sparks that remained of the enveloping brightness that she exuded not more than a few minutes prior.

In the discussion's lull, the flap of one of Septimus' bags became undone by the distinct green overglow that preceded Syria's partial emergence from obscurity. She pulled herself up almost halfway out of the satchel, squinting into the daylight that filtered down from the cloud cover. Transient ethereal paths traced between the mage and the Hueilin in the armored being's vision even as she voiced a cheery, though tired, greeting to him and Evisa. The viking woman regarded the Daavenian with quiet gratification. Another overdue meeting. Whereas Desrium did not speak of the mage as often as he did the Scholar, the murmurs of Brodudika shrouded the redhead in an air of mystery elevated by how comfortably she called the impressive drake company.

Or was it vice versa? If so, that was somehow even more impressive; a seemingly ordinary associate held in an extremely extraordinary station.

"Nice of you to join us, Syria," rumbled the Scholar pleasantly, Ceridwen twittering her greetings at their side, her feathered crest fluffing up in subdued enthusiasm.

"Returning to the matter at hand," began Septimus, shifting his focus back to the Benefactor. He allowed himself a moment to reflect on what the armoured being had said. "Tragic, but not unheard of. A lack of closure on a matter could be seen to be the curse of many things in this world we live in. The answer to any conceivable question will always bring about at least one more question. Even something as simple and innocent as the number of limbs on a bird could, in answering it, give rise to the question of why that is so."

"Four. Two to fly, two to walk," offered Ceridwen, tilting her head at the Scholar's overcomplication of a simple matter.

"But why only two legs and two wings?"

That gave her pause. "They...only need two of each? They's so small they don't need more."

"Then why do insects have six legs and four wings in many cases? Are they not smaller than birds?"

"Oh."

"Exactly. In any case, we're digressing from the subject of the matter," directed the Son of Storms now that his demonstration was concluded. "I understand that we are unlikely to find all the answers. Indeed, even with aetheropic vision and our deductive skills, we are still left somewhat at a loss as to the details of the matter and the severity of the cause behind it. An incredibly powerful dragon, a scar in the history of that place so deep that even the world's own record of what happened has been dashed across the fabric of time... There is much I fear we will never know." he stated more decisively. "But we can at least learn some of what transpired, as experienced by the elementals that took refuge there. I hope you will forgive my assumption, but I don't suppose you've inquired as to why they saw fit to seal themselves in there as they did? Or why they saw fit to rebuild a cave and the upper portion of an entire mountain, for that matter? What, if anything, they were hiding from? What they found when they arrived?"

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

At that point, Evisa was compelled to take charge of the conversation since she was appointed guardian of the elementals in question. The aura of authority that came about her Novarah persona was bolstered further by the vitality coursing through her body. It was with that appointed-authority on the subject that Evisa spoke steadfast with nary a pause for Desrium to contribute. What she didn't know, her armored ally could not hope to know. That was the decisive reasoning that led to her standing tall before the two dragons and the mage, hands at their usual place on her hips. Desrium simply observed, falling into the role he was abruptly given.

"None of them have mentioned anything to me about what their lives were like before they got here. Day to day, they don't even talk about their march across Aster with Desrium, and I only know what I know about that because I was there for the end of it."

Desrium had concluded as much, owing to the fact that Evisa hadn't approached him with concerns about a madwoman who wanted him erased from the face of Leyuna yet.

"This is the first time I've heard about them doing anything with caves though, aside from their current hideaway and the work they put into making it. The mountain thing is a bit of a surprise, too. I'd considered the den the result of natural talent... and in some way, that's still true and all, but it hadn't crossed my mind that they had practice to boot."

"I discovered the elementals in a hollow... the remains of a city brought to ruin," Desrium said. Evisa deflated a small measure, her shoulders drooping being the obvious indication of the weight of his words. "However, it did not cross my mind until now that they were the ones to block off the mouth to the cavern. Or that they may have witnessed the dragon's attack...?"

Syria shook her head solemnly. Although she chastised Septimus for not alerting her to their return earlier over their telepathic conveyance, a small part of her wished that she'd missed some of this discussion in retrospect. Catching herself slipping back into the morose thoughts she'd spent hours ridding herself of, the mage pressed on to elaborate. "Our understanding is patchy, but we can be sure that the elementals appeared after the fact. It may be that their actions are why the aethereopic spell was able to recover information after that missing time in the first place. That is why we believe they could know something vital... anything that may give us a more complete story."

The Stalwart did not reply, and Evisa took that silence to mean that he had deferred to her judgement, by his volition and not her initiative. While Desrium ruminated on the possible scenarios that could come of a terribly powerful rogue dragon that was still roaming free, Evisa grappled with what she took to be her next hurdle in her tenure as a den mother. Was she due for another stumble?

"Evisa?" asked the Scholar, noting the viking's distraction with some measure of curiosity. Was she indecisive? Something else, perhaps? "Would you kindly assist us in speaking to them? I have found that it is not always easy to communicate with elementals not acquainted with more popular tongues."

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

The obvious choice for Evisa was to agree and expedite the proceedings of what was obviously a significant fact finding mission. There was a certain undeniable gravity in being the key to the last available lead. In spite of this however, Evisa felt another side of herself tugging at the corners of her mind, muddying the certainty that she should have been well assured in. Could there be a reason why all of this had gone unsaid, maybe even discarded, by the elementals? Was there an intrinsic understanding among them to leave undesirable memories out of their consciousness to be buried by the accumulation of years over the course of their long lives?

Evisa swung her arms behind her back and locked the grip of one hand over the other while digging a heel into the soft earth. The weight of her decision loomed over her. Like her venture to teach the young ones how to read, there was the potential that this course of action could have severe lasting consequences despite the good intentions. The longer she spent thinking about that, the more this became more than an opportunity to stumble in her journey.

"Give me a minute," she said to the others, belated to the quiet that had already fallen over the field. Syria opened her mouth to tell Evisa that there was no rush, but thought better of it. The viking was deliberating at her own pace as is. She was only letting everyone else know that she needed a little more time.

Evisa turned back the years in her head, stoic underneath her helmet's warrior visage. Was this the kind of decision her mother had to make when she was asked to turn her newborn into a symbol? If so, did that mean the lady of light had taken that mantle as her own, a mother to children of a radically different sort, in such a short time?

There were no rueful remarks about going soft and being unprepared for a moment of truth. Evisa had to accept that this was so, and that it was impacting her judgement. She sucked in a breath a fell back on the years of physical and mental tempering that made her the person she was today.

"I don't know about all this aereo-whatever, but I do know that they'll understand you if you speak to them. I'll... let you know what they have to say, if anything," Evisa told the others. Alas, no matter how much she was telling herself that adversity bred strength, she could not help adding, "But if they don't want to talk about it, that's that. Alright?"

The Scholar's expression softened, pupils dilating slightly as he nodded. "Of course." She felt for them. More closely than he had expected. But then, how long had it been now? A few months? He recalled Desrium stating that she had acted as their warden since they arrived in the city, and that was early autumn. Now, at the brink of spring, it had been just shy of half a year. Being in their company day in and day out for that long, it was little wonder.

"Why wouldn't they want to talk about it? Was what you found really so terrible?" chirped Ceridwen, providing input for the first time in this conversation.

"Worse," responded Septimus gravely. "It really depends on how they feel about so much lost life, so much suffering. The other elementals I have met have shown incredible compassion for those around them. The Thunderbird watched over the Daavenians and the other creatures around the Boldrim for a very long time. The Life Bringer went against not only her own nature but that of the weather itself to maintain oases in the desert so that the animals there would not die of thirst. Tzeentch sacrificed her own life to protect us during the battle of Aster. If these are anything like the ones I have dealt with in the past, I would not put it past them to be shaken by such horrific sights as the ones they witnessed."

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Desrium thought back to the adage of elementals and their fickle tendencies as he returned to the cavernous hall of his memory, his mind's eye gazing at what his carmine jewels beheld. He sought to find the clues he'd overlooked then, the things that should have been self-evident after hearing what Septimus and Syria reported. In recalling the climb up a mound of pulverized brick to speak to figures cast away in gloomy crevices, Desrium began to feel the enveloping rawness of realization.

What he'd seen reminded him of the fall of the Justicar's Keep. The actual extent of the heinous event was of an even greater measure that that abrupt turmoil and displacement. Moreover, the newborn elementals had no method of rationalizing this disaster in the way that he and Septimus were able to, to make sense of it against the scheme of the world. For that unknown stretch of time, the environ of desolation was their world, and if that was all they thought they could expect from this realm, Desrium understood why they remained in that communal coffin for as long as they did. And why they followed him out, at the promise of something more.

Desrium looked to Evisa, whose fidgeting was beginning to intensify again. She was using the tip of her boot to poke at the muddy ground intermittently. Having already said her piece and given her assent, the reiteration of the risks only left her to think. Unbridled thoughts conspired together to rile the viking up with excess that lacked an immediate outlet. Desrium recognized this for what it was, and it appeared that his immediate objective was to direct that uneasiness into himself. He shifted in the soft soil, the beginning stages of a step, when he heard Syria speak.

"It... um... to be considerate..." Syria's brows were furrowed by deep thought. Her hands were folded together, and her forearms bore the burden of support as she leaned out over the lip of the satchel as one would over the railing of a veranda. "... If there is any congruency between my recent experience--" she paused sharply, her gaze shifting sidelong, "--our experience, sorry, then we shouldn't be too hasty for the sake of solving this mystery as quickly as possible. It would be best if we spent some time letting the elementals become acquainted and comfortable with us, so that our questions are not taken as a sudden intrusion on something personal and sensitive to them..."

The mage straightened, the wrinkles in her features smoothing out.

"Just my two coppers, from one mother to another."

Evisa froze in mid-prod, looked to the woman half in the bag, and gave her an off-center look through her helmet's eyepiece.

The Scholar weighed Syria's suggestion thoughtfully. It was an observation that had been momentarily overlooked. It was common sense for a child, but he had never really considered the elementals as such. But perhaps that was not too far off the mark, after all. "We'll play it by ear," he rumbled.

"Play?...Ear?"

"Figure of speech," responded the drake swiftly. "We'll see how they react to us and whether they feel comfortable in our presence before deciding how to proceed."

The dragoness perked up. "They were very curious when I visited. Some of them played with Beshayir. One of them talked to me, kinda."

"...'Kinda'?" asked the Scholar, a brow arching as he eyed the dragoness sceptically.

The dragoness looked down at her feet sheepishly, not meeting his gaze as she responded, "Well, I was talking to Evisa and Evisa was talking to me and one of the Elementals spoke to Evisa and commented on our conversation so um...yeah?"

"I see," he replied slowly, momentarily considering whether he should really be this surprised at the dragoness's peculiar method of expressing herself. "Well, perhaps they'll be interested in lending their thoughts to our conversations then as well. Do you think they would be intimidated by my stature, Evisa? I am able to take on a less imposing form, if that would be preferred."

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

The viking woman took a moment to appraise the Hueilin's silhouette, starting from where his talons met the earth and tilting her head backwards until she was viewing his darkened crown of horns against the diffused gray sky. The gesture was ultimately for a personal curiosity rather than the formulation of a response to Septimus' question. "Obviously. Brodudika would have been a lot more cramped over the span of your previous visit if you couldn't."

Evisa could have added a remark about not expecting large, flying creatures to be overly fond of the prospect of venturing into the subterranean, however she thought better of it. She could have come off as insensitive after learning about Septimus' foray into the lost city, and disrespectful to those who were lost in it. Evisa opted instead to address something Ceridwen had reminded her of. Turning her attention back to the Paladin, she asked, "Would Septimus still be able to reconcile confusion if he were to change his skin?"

"If my conjecture is sound, then yes," Desrium answered. Fortuitously, the Scholarly Elf would be a more definitive measure of what he suspected to be the case should that be the form Septimus chose to make his first impression with.

"Something Desrium said while you were away. Apparently I remind them of something they met before...? I don't know... Maybe it was another Hueilin?" suggested the dragoness.

That...was unexpected. But perhaps it shouldn't have been. It had been a while since the Hueilin emerged from Drakhunmiir. In theory, it wasn't impossible that they had encountered one, or even several, before they met Desrium. "So this confusion...?"

"Uncertainty of why I'm familiar...Or, well, of why something about me is familiar to them. Maybe you'd be able to clarify it for them," suggested the dragoness, a noncommittal shrug coming in quick response to the Scholar's tilted head.

"Well, we'll see. If my elvish form is too obscure, I could just as easily leave the cave and show them my true form in the open."

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Syria responded with some agreeable-sounding murmurings. The mage was not yet lost to her thoughts, although it was obvious her focus had been diverted to another subject. It wasn't so major as to interfere with her assent, but the itch of mystery nagged at her. To a degree, she was certain Alen'ta was the cause... or Harbrid, to be more precise. Syria suspected Septimus felt the same inkling. How the entwined pair managed to get involved at all was a one-worded riddle -- there was no way to guess at the answer.

Maybe that's why the Scholar left the notion unsaid.

"That wasn't so difficult to understand," Evisa deadpanned to the armored being. The boot tip that had dug into the dirt pensively not long ago was now stamping on the mud with a ferver bred by qahwa and annoyance.

"The circumstances are more so," Desrium explained in a fashion that was entirely like him, offering little in the form of an actual explanation.

The journey proceeded in silence thereafter. It wasn't much longer before the elemental den came into view, Ceridwen, for once confident of where they were going, leading the way with a hint of a spring in her step. It was something the Scholar observed with some amusement. She wasn't often quite this confident. Confrontational when provoked, but not particularly confident.

"We will wait until you have spoken to them," stated the Scholar, his massive stature dissolving in a cloud of black smoke, spilling down rather than upwards like a heavy fog and washing off the figure of the Scholarly Elf.

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Up until then, the energetic viking in the party had been transfixed by the rhythm of Ceridwen's four-legged gait, the bounding character of which she never thought to see in any draconic being. The behavior was not kin to the behavior of birds, contrary to the dragoness' likeness; and though the next closest candidates were horses, Evisa struggled to pinpoint one instance in her experience with horses that she felt they were this expressive in their mannerisms. All for the best she decided as she started to look over her shoulder to Septimus, unifying several unspoken tangents related to Ceridwen and the walk at large at once. The mental paths were laid down with all the finesse of a city planner working without a grid, winding and overlapping and diverging at a whim, and in some overshadowed alley there lived the thought that Ceridwen would not take to being compared to horses after discourse on dairy earlier in the day. It was accompanied by another that broached the compelling argument that a dragon would not want to be seen as anything that wasn't a dragon.

... Although the view of Scholar behind her presented a solid counterargument in his current state. Furthermore, while it took the majority of their trek's duration for Evisa to notice the dragoness' subtle peculiarity, Septimus' was plain to see through the otherwise constricting visor of her Vaugh helm. His was halfway out of the singular pack that was physically too small to hold her slung over his shoulder, as opposed to the voluminous two she knew the dragon to have on his sides, and her stark red hair whipped about lazily in the post-rain breeze passing through the trees. Evisa watched her fold her fingers over the former dragon's pale hair and then rest her chin on her knuckles.

It was at this point that Desrium took a few steps closer to their side, taking advantage of the added margin that Septimus' compact figure afforded in the quarters of the forest trail. Evisa's gaze passed over their faces in sequence -- Septimus, Syria, Desrium -- and doubled back searching for some kind of reaction, the Paladin notwithstanding for reasons self-evident to them all. The silence did not overstay its welcome, and Evisa took its presence being there at all as a signal that her company had nothing to say about the chipper dragoness and the woman who disappeared at the waist into Septimus' bag. Not even said woman.

"Alrighty then," Evisa spoke evenly before looking straight and marching up alongside Ceridwen, who she did not have to ask if she wished to accompany her down into the den-cavern. The dragoness was so self-assured, Evisa was sure she would have ventured down the slope without her.

The dragoness continued her energetic trot until she actually reached the cave entrance, for no reason other than the fact that she wanted to avoid hitting her head or stubbing her feet on something. A distinctive warble escaped her as she made her way into the cave, an entertained Septimus following at a leisurely pace behind them.

The Scholar couldn't help but reflect on the energy she was showing. He couldn't recall seeing her like this before. Not for as long as he had known her personally. He reflected on the possibility that this may have been more in line with the Ceridwen that preceded her capture; a thought that put a smile on his ashen features. He looked up, seeing the muted shadow of Syria's had cast over him. "What a difference a day makes. Leave her on her own and she suddenly starts bouncing," he stated amusedly, bringing his thoughts to the surface after a momentary consideration of wind direction. Between his relatively quiet tone and the fact the wind was blowing towards him, away from the dragoness, he was confident in the fact his comment hadn't carried over to the feather-clad daughter of Clan Maelgwyn.

"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!" –William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG

Syria was puzzled by the soft-spoken observation and she leaned her head to one side a tad to mull over the Scholar's intentions. Her intuition was that Septimus did not want to make Ceridwen self-conscious about the way she was acting, whether she was aware of her demeanor or not. It put a smile on the student mage's face that Septimus remained so considerate of others despite the burden of their recent discoveries, inspiring a small warmth in her chest. Although she found such a thing touching, it did not slip her mind that Septimus leaned on the side of discretion so as to not have a debate with Ceridwen later about certain implications and technicalities that came with their draconic kinship. Her smiled remained in spite of that, or in part due to that, even.

Syria responded in kind with an exaggerated whisper, not wanting to take a chance underestimating anyone's superior hearing. It did not matter that both Ceridwen and Evisa were out of sight past the earthen slope that hid the collection of enigmatic beings from the outside world. "I know. I was worried the city would weigh on her too heavily. I hadn't expected her to rejoin us so soon, so part of me was nervous about her reaction to the news we were bringing as well."

Desrium's red gaze passed between Syria and the entrance to the den. There was mounting evidence that Hueilin and elemental beings had an intrinsic resonance rather than a simple linking of emotional sates. He was tempted to purport that Ceridwen was developing a resonance with the children that she sang to. The thought was kept to himself for the time being. Desrium did not have enough definite facts to support his conjecture, but he knew for a definite fact that theories yet to be proven were tantalizing for Septimus and Syria. The simple crumbs he had to share could feed hours of perspective discussion between them.